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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27577223">Holmes Genes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloquated/pseuds/eloquated'>eloquated</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Georgiana [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:34:05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,585</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27577223</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/eloquated/pseuds/eloquated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>John thought he understood the Holmes family, until a case at a prestigious girl's school forced him to re-evaluate his assumptions.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Mycroft Holmes &amp; Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock Holmes &amp; John Watson</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Georgiana [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015744</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>43</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Holmes Genes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hey everyone!  It's been forever since I wrote anything with dad!Myc, but this quick little scene has been rattling around in my head for ages, and it was finally time to put it down on paper!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>"Sherlock, hold up a second, you still haven't told me what we're doing here!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Working with the great and brilliant Sherlock Holmes had led John Watson through some very strange places.  In fact, it was almost assumed that any case about a seven would eventually result in cold, wet shoes, and something slimy.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The where of the shoes, and the what of the slime, changed with the case, and was, unfortunately, part of the mystery.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Lovelace Academy for the Gifted was a beautiful spot, with the sort of manicured lawns that looked casual, but probably required a team of gardeners to keep tidy.  It was a warm, sunny day (which boded well for his shoes), and unless things went spectacularly awry, John didn't see any reason they should end up in the sewers.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or anywhere else thick with mold and slime.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He should have been grateful, because driving back to London while damp and smelling of old </span>
  <em>
    <span>things </span>
  </em>
  <span>was never his favourite way to spend a Sunday afternoon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But quite unfortunately, the Lovelace Academy had a collection of new and unfortunate complications of its own.  Chiefly the very pretty-- and very young-- girls currently watching them from the dormitory windows.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"John-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Watson</span>
  </em>
  <span>."  Sherlock's voice was just loud and impatient enough to drag John back to the present, especially when paired with those crossed arms, and the very distinctive look of Holmesian annoyance.  "Has it somehow escaped your notice that we have a murdered afoot?  And here you are, staring at girls who are half your age.  A few even less."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I wasn't!"  He was.  "But there's a girl, Sherlock-"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"As we're currently investigating a murder on the grounds of an all-girl's school, I should have thought that would be obvious."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not just some random girl!  They're all supposed to be in their rooms, but she's been following us."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John wasn't sure why he'd expected Sherlock to be surprised, it wasn't even the first time some overzealous fan had taken it upon themselves to catch a glimpse of the famed detective, or his blogger.  But he'd expected something a little more engaged than a checked sigh, and a look of vague annoyance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Yes, I've seen her.  She's nothing to worry about."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How do you know that?  Killers frequently return to the scene of the crime, they like watching the drama unfold."  This time, it was John's turn to cross his arms, though the effect was rather lost as Sherlock continued on, and ducked around the side of the building.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a good point, maybe even a </span>
  <em>
    <span>very </span>
  </em>
  <span>good point (and God knew John didn't get to lord that over Sherlock very often!) but it was all but forgotten as a streak of bright ginger hair streamed from one of the library windows, trailing after the tall, skinny girl that had leaped out in front of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uncle, you're very late!"  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was surprising, but not as purely shocking as the way Sherlock dragged the girl into a tight hug, his arms locked around her like she was going to vanish.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I am precisely on time, and you're supposed to be in your room.  Not sneaking around the grounds when there's a killer on the loose!  Do you want to be the next victim?"  Sherlock's arms tensed, flexing, and he curled one hand against the back of her head.  Loose copper curls spilled through his fingers, and it would have been striking, if it wasn't so damn </span>
  <em>
    <span>weird</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl rolled her eyes dismissively, and for a second, John was jarringly reminded of his flatmate when he was in a mood.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You can keep wandering around the school on your own, </span>
  <em>
    <span>or</span>
  </em>
  <span>--"  The girl paused a beat, mostly for dramatic emphasis, "You can accept my help.  I know where all the secret passages are, and the little corners that nobody else knows about.  I won't get in the way, I promise!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Sherlock, no.  We can't take-- wait--"  John blinked slowly, and took a closer look at the girl.  At the tall lankiness of her, and the pretty face with the too-sharp cheekbones, and the rumpled disregard for her uniform.  She couldn't be more than fifteen, maybe sixteen at a stretch; and obviously a student at this school.  "Uncle?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Naturally."  Sherlock barely deigned to answer, as he was occupied in something of a battle of wills with the girl.  "John Watson, meet Georgiana Holmes.  My niece."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well that wasn't possible.  Not even remotely possible.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your </span>
  <em>
    <span>what?  </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sherlock, this isn't funny!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why should it be?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't know!  I thought you'd have mentioned it if you had another sibling.  It seems like the kind of thing that would've come up in the last few years!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being fixed with one uncomfortably direct Holmesian gaze was bad.  Being fixed with two simultaneously was a magnitude worse.  Especially when one of those Holmeses was wearing a short school skirt, and a profoundly irritated expression of, '</span>
  <em>
    <span>So, you're really an idiot.  I'd had higher hopes</span>
  </em>
  <span>'.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Another sibling?  I don't.  Ana is Mycroft's daughter."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn't compute.  Not at all.  John was fairly sure he looked like he'd been hit over the head by something solid; slack-jawed and blinking slowly in incomprehension.  He was a doctor, he knew where babies came from.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the idea of Mycroft doing any of those things?  It was inconceivable!  Even a little horrifying.  He could only imagine what it had been like for the poor girl, with someone like Mycroft probably lecturing her form, or critiquing her enthusiasm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I thought he was gay!"  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn't John's most eloquent moment, the words blurted out in a rush of surprise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I don't see how that's relevant."  Sherlock began, just as his niece chimed in, </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And?  What does that matter?  You're supposed to be finding out who killed Marissa, not wondering about who my dad sleeps with."  Ana scrunched up her nose at the idea, and started to pull Sherlock along down the path.  "There's a shortcut this way, Uncle.  We're not supposed to use it, but if I was the killer?  That's where I'd go!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>End of conversation, and John found himself trailing after the pair of Holmeses, listening with half an ear to Ana's deductions, and Sherlock's low, approving hums of agreement.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The case turned out to be barely a three-- predictably it was the ex boyfriend, and he was safely in custody before teatime.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But despite that, Sherlock seemed in high spirits by the time they got back to London, late in the afternoon.  "Another case solved for your blog, John!  I'm sure the girls will be excited to see their school in your next post."  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Probably... Sherlock..."  John stopped halfway to the sink, the kettle loose in one hand, "That girl, your niece--"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Georgiana."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right, her.  I guess she was raised by her mum?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Not remotely.  The last I heard, Kate was in Moscow, but that may have changed.  You'd have to ask Mycroft, he's the one who bothers to keep in touch.  As far as I know, she hasn't seen Ana for several years."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherlock sounded supremely dismissive; of Kate, of Mycroft's parenting, of their relationship? Of John's assumptions?  It was difficult to say.  And it could be for a combination of all those things, or something John hadn't even considered (talking to Sherlock could be like that, sometimes).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of the running water drowned out their voices for a moment, and bought John the chance to process that new information.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Right... It's just, your brother's not exactly paternal, Sherlock.  I guess that's why he sent her to that boarding school?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment the words left his mouth, John realized they'd been a mistake.  Sherlock's expression closed over, hard and defensive, and he fixed him with a look that could only be described as 'withering'.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Seven hours ago, you weren't aware that my brother even had a child, and now you feel comfortable judging his capabilities as a parent?  Not that it's any of your business, but Ana is going to Lovelace because it's the only school that can remotely challenge her.  You can't imagine the tedium of being surrounded by </span>
  <em>
    <span>goldfish</span>
  </em>
  <span>."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Goldfish.  Like you.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, Sherlock was tactful enough not to mention it, but John didn't need any help reading between those lines.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I find that a little hard to believe!"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Thankfully, the truth isn't dependent on your comprehension.  My brother may despise having Ana away, but he tolerates it."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Why are you defending him?  You don't even like your brother-- all you do is fight!"  John bristled, and the kettle sloshed as he plugged it in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"And you only speak to your sister on Christmas, or when your parents force you to.  My brother and I may not always agree, but we still see each other several times a week.  As usual, John, you fail to comprehend what's right in front of your eyes.' </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to call Mycroft, and tell him we've solved the case.  There was a murder at his daughter's school, after all, and he does worry."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a dramatic swish of his coat, Sherlock spun on a heel and headed down the hallway to his bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>John was fairly sure he was never going to understand that family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few minutes later, on the far side of Marylebone, Mycroft Holmes breathed a sigh of relief when his brother's name appeared on his phone.  "I hope you have some good news for me, brother mine."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She's fine, Mycie.  Promise."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oh thank God..."</span>
</p>
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